Both me and Nikitin are protective when it comes to our

The words of Kratika Sengar speak with both tenderness and fire: “Both me and Nikitin are protective when it comes to our relationship. We would not like if someone comes and tells that, ‘Oh, your chemistry is better with your co-actor than with your real-life husband.’” At first, it seems a simple declaration of love between two souls. Yet beneath it lies an ancient truth: the sacred bond of marriage must be guarded with vigilance, for careless words and wandering comparisons can wound what is most precious.

From the earliest ages, the union of two souls has been honored as holy. The Greeks spoke of the marriage of Odysseus and Penelope, tested by time, distance, and suitors, yet preserved by loyalty. The Indians sang of Rama and Sita, whose love was not untouched by trial, but whose devotion remained unshaken. In all these tales, we see what Sengar declares: a true relationship must be shielded, not only from storms outside but from subtle whispers that seek to diminish it.

Her words also reveal the pain of comparison. To say one’s chemistry with another is greater than with one’s own husband is to belittle the sanctity of love. Performance, whether on stage or screen, is an illusion—crafted, rehearsed, designed to stir emotion. But the fire of marriage is not illusion; it is the steady flame that warms through silence, through quarrels, through years of trial. To confuse one for the other is folly, and to declare it aloud is a wound to the heart. Thus, Kratika and Nikitin guard their love as one would guard a temple, refusing to let thoughtless judgments profane its sanctity.

History gives us a mirror of this truth in the life of Marcus Aurelius, the philosopher-emperor. Though surrounded by courtiers, flattery, and temptation, he often wrote of his wife Faustina with reverence, refusing to let the opinions of others tarnish the bond they shared. Even when rumors swirled through the empire, he turned his gaze inward, choosing loyalty and protection of his household over the voices of the crowd. Like Sengar, he understood that love cannot thrive if exposed unguarded to the arrows of comparison.

There is also courage in such protectiveness. For in a world eager to intrude, to speculate, to turn private love into public entertainment, it takes strength to draw a line and declare: “This belongs to us, and no further shall anyone cross.” Sengar’s words remind us that not all things are for display. A marriage, though visible to the world, is nourished in private, in the quiet moments no camera sees. To guard that space is to preserve the soul of the bond.

The lesson, O seeker, is plain: cherish your relationship not as a spectacle, but as a sacred trust. Do not allow comparisons with others to poison the well of affection. Remember that performance and appearance are fleeting, but the devotion of two hearts is lasting. Guard it as you would guard treasure, for once neglected, it can be lost to careless words or wandering attention.

Practical wisdom flows from this: speak with reverence about your beloved. When others compare or diminish, answer firmly, as Sengar and Nikitin do, drawing a boundary of respect. Within your home, nourish love with honesty, loyalty, and shared pride. And above all, remember that no stranger’s opinion can define your bond, unless you allow it.

So let these words endure: “We are protective of our relationship.” For this is not jealousy, but strength. It is not fear, but devotion. To be protective is to honor what is sacred, to guard the flame of love against the winds of the world. And in that guarding, the bond grows stronger, shining like a lamp through the years.